


you caught me

by orphan_account



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Bisexual Female Character, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/F, Lesbian Character, and has a very soft romance with dorothea, and they help each other through the war, ingrid deals with a lot of gender stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-31 17:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21449632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "Has anyone told you how handsome you are, Ingrid?"Dorothea's eyes were dangerous, and Ingrid couldn't resist falling. The soft touch on her chin was intoxicating."Not until this moment."Dorothea brushed her thumb across Ingrid's bottom lip."I shall say it more often, then."( Ingrid from her childhood to post-war Fódlan, finding her identity and accepting love)
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 6
Kudos: 98





	1. Autumn

The first time Ingrid was forced to wear a dress was when she was thirteen, when her grandfather died. Before then, she spent most of her days running around the capital with the boys, wearing her older brothers’ hand-me-downs and pretending to be a knight. She never saw herself as different from them, with her matching short hair and missing front teeth. She thought life would always be like this, filled with dirt and wrestling and building secret fires in the woods away from the guards eyes. She never thought about finery or makeup, and the concepts of marriage and childbirth were so far beyond her that they almost seemed imaginary, less real than the illustrations of dragons and monsters in her favorite storybook.

The day Count Galatea passed away, Ingrid did not cry. Her entire family was gathered in her grandfather’s chambers, waiting for the healers to say their condolences and shuffle out to give them privacy. Her mother wept over his still form, while her father’s shoulders gently shook with soft sobs. Even her older brothers, Anders and Sven, had tears staining their cheeks, despite all their teenage boasting about how stoic and manly they could be. Ingrid stood in front of her father, his hands grasping her shoulders tightly as she stared down at her grandfather’s lifeless body. Count Galatea had almost reached a century in age and had led a storied life, just like the knights in her stories. He was everything she strived to be, and she could feel a pain building in her stomach as she thought about all the things they would never be able to do again. She remembers him instructing her on how to hold a lance properly (despite her mother’s protests), teaching her how to ride a horse (while her brothers were nearly thrown off their own), and always telling her to never doubt herself when faced with challenges. He once made her promise that she would protect the House once he left this world, speaking of his greatest regrets and greatest wishes. She swore that she would protect the family with her life, and he had chuckled at her seriousness but commended her dedication.

The memories burned. The pain within her built and built, but never spilled over. She felt overwhelmed, weighed down by father’s trembling hands on her shoulders, her mother’s loud sobs, her brothers’ uncommon silence. She ran out of the room, disappearing into the stables and trembling against her favorite horse until Felix was sent to fetch her at nightfall. He said nothing, but his presence was enough to stop her shaking.

Days later, Ingrid, her mother, Lady Fraldarius, and Lady Gautier were choosing outfits for the upcoming funeral. Ingrid had played with Sylvain, Felix, and Dimitri earlier that morning, and they had shown her their beautiful black velvet capes and tunics. Ingrid had looked upon them with envy. She imagined herself dressed in their clothes, presiding over the funeral procession like a real knight as King Lambert gave her grandfather a hero’s farewell. She would be able to protect her grandfather’s spirit until he was able to rejoin the Goddess.

Ingrid was shaken out of her thoughts by the thin voice calling out to her across the room.

“Dearest Ingrid, which design do you prefer?”

Lady Gautier was holding up two almost identical dresses. The elaborate designs, puffy sleeves, and heavy fabric looked unappealing, with neither evoking any positive feelings within her. Only a lurching feeling of discomfort.

“They would better suit a crone than I, Lady Gautier.”

She could hear the older women guffaw before she even realized what she had said. Her father had said many times before that Ingrid was too honest for her own good, and her mother had tried her best to curb that habit—but failed every time. This was another one of those times, and Ingrid could feel her mother staring daggers at her from across the room even as the two other women tittered at Ingrid’s comment.

“Ingrid, you must choose one of the dresses that Lady Gautier very kindly offered to let us borrow.” Her mother spoke with a forced smile, her eyes promising death if Ingrid spoke out of turn once again.

“Yes, Mother.” Ingrid was still burning with indignation, but didn’t have the energy to fight her mother, much less in front of others. She grabbed the dresses from Lady Gautier and stomped into the changing area. She threw one of the dresses on the chaise lounge, and quickly ripped off her stained training clothes, hoping to get this over with quickly so she could go back to the stables. She pulled the dress up over her hips, trying to ignore how they have grown wider in recent months. The sleeves were next, puffy and gaudy, and with a pained look on her face she pulled the dress over her chest wraps before reaching back and zipping it up. She hadn’t even realized her eyes were closed until she opened them to look at herself in the mirror.

The reflection looking back wasn’t herself. She only recognized the daughter of House Galatea, the crest holder and last chance for the house to return to its former glory, before poor weather and territorial disputes had stripped their fortune and noble standing. Her long blonde hair shone in the late afternoon sunlight, like the princesses of myth; the strong, straight lines of her figure she had been so proud of had begun to fade into unwanted curves and softness; the uncomfortable extravagance of her dress betrayed the simple and utilitarian clothes she was far more used to.

_How am I supposed to protect grandfather’s spirit while dressed as a helpless lady rather than a gallant knight?_ She betrayed his trust. The tears began to flow before she had even realized. Something had broken within her that had been building since she saw the light fade from her grandfather’s eyes. She crumpled onto the floor, not caring about the tears and mucus she rubbed furiously into the horrid sleeves of her dress. It was only when she heard a loud knock that she realized she had been sobbing for far longer than she had realized.

“Ingrid, is everything going well? We would love to see you!” Ingrid sniffed, trying to stop crying before answering Lady Fraldarius.

“Just a moment! The buttons are a bit more confusing than I thought!” Ingrid faked a cheery response, but still couldn’t bring herself to present herself in front of the older women. After a few more minutes of trying to calm herself down, she saw the knob of the changing room turn. Panic filled Ingrid as her mother entered, a stern look on her face.

“What are you doing?”

“Trying on my dresses.” Ingrid said bitterly, too tired to pretend she was feeling ok as she wiped tears from her cheeks.

“Watch that tone, Ingrid.” Her mother’s lack of care for her tears set her off.

“I don’t know why I have to wear this while Sven and Anders get to wear whatever they please!”

“Because we cannot afford a new dress and Lady Gautier was kind enough to let you wear it! Are you so spoiled you would reject a generous gift like this?”

“That is not what I meant and you know it! I just don’t know why I have to wear a dress in general—I hate them!” Angry tears began streaking down her face before she could stop them.

However, her mother’s steely gaze was unchanged.

“I do not care if you like them or not. It is your grandfather’s funeral and you will honor him by being properly dressed.”

“Honor him? He would be on my side!” Ingrid was sure of it. But it didn’t matter. Her mother’s expression was unforgiving.

“You will wear this dress, and you will say nothing in opposition. You are a lady of House Galatea, and you will finally act like it!”

The raging fire in Ingrid was smothered by her mother’s pronouncement. A deep sense of hopelessness filled her instead, as she finally realized the future awaiting her. There were no great deeds, or rescued princesses, or dragons slayed. Only the pain of childbirth and menial tasks designed to keep noble women busy. Lady Gautier and Lady Fraldarius cooed and cawed at her when her mother brought her out of the changing room, and Ingrid felt like an animal on display.

Ingrid wore the dress to the funeral and did not shed a tear. She felt too ashamed to even look at the casket.

* * *

After the funeral, everything began to change too quickly for her. She awoke one day with blood across her bed sheets, and almost fainted. Her mother explained to her that it was a sign from the Goddess; she was a woman now, and it was time to leave behind her childish ways and prepare to become a good wife and mother. Ingrid was soon enrolled in etiquette courses, keeping her far away from her friends as they played in the courtyard without her. She was no longer allowed to wear her brothers’ comfortable breeches and shirts, and instead was given dresses and skirts by Lady Fraldarius, “a gift for her future daughter-in-law,” as she explained.

A certain numbness overcame Ingrid during this period, her first touch with depair in her young life. Dimitri, Sylvain, and Felix tried to include her in their training and play fights, but even they felt the invisible barrier growing between them. Their bodies were changing too, and Ingrid felt envy as they grew in height and their voices began to reach lower octaves. She was kept out of the sun, withering like a flower, while they bloomed with laughter and sweat.

Her only respite was during the mid-morning, when the clanging of swords rang out below her window as she was forced to sew another asinine pattern. A stray ray of light hit her eyes as she watched the training below, bewitched by the smooth, almost effortless movements. Glenn was as graceful as the wind, and the only point of stress on his entire frame was a slight line of frustration on his brow. His opponent was soon knocked backwards, tipping dangerously in his heavy armor, ready to fall the short but painful distance off the training platform. But before he could fall, Glenn reached out a hand, grabbing his fellow knight by the collar and pulled him back onto the platform.

_Always the gentleman_, Ingrid thought as she admired his sportsmanship. Glenn didn’t often play with them while they were growing up, as he spent most of his time with the knights he squired for, rarely ever taking a moment to just be a child. Ingrid admired his singlemindedness, his pure determination to become the greatest knight in all of Faerghus. He was always training, reading, or discussing strategy with the other knights.

Their relationship was much more formal than her friendship with Felix. While she and Felix argued, laughed, and played, Ingrid and Glenn spent most of their time together politely discussing tales of chivalry and mostly trying to avoid speaking of their inevitable future together. It lent a certain air of stiffness to their conversations, but the distance also allowed Ingrid’s admiration to plant itself deep inside of her and grow unreservedly. Sometimes, during stressful moments, she even caught herself thinking: _what would Glenn choose to do?_ She would never tell anyone this, but the question has yet to let her down so far.

During supper that night in King Lambert’s hall, Ingrid had been dining with her family, squished between her two brothers at a much smaller table than her family would traditionally sit at. Another sign of her House’s falling status, she begrudged. Ingrid had just begun eating her pudding when she felt something hit the back of her head.

“What…?”

She reached back and grabbed a ball of paper that had hit her and fallen down the back of her jacket collar. Her family was too wrapped up in their own dinner conversations to notice her distraction, and she opened the note underneath the table. _Join us at the usual meeting place tonight. _Next to the words, which were clearly written with Felix’s hasty scrawl, was a crude drawing she automatically knew was made by Sylvain. She shook her head before quickly throwing the note into one of the nearby oil lamps, thinking about what excuse she could make up to enable her escape.

A “sore stomach” turned out to be right answer, allowing her to skip her family’s after-dinner activities and return to her chambers, locking the door behind her. Ingrid quickly stripped out of her frilly dress and threw on her training clothes, riding boots, and a dark cloak. With one last glance at her bedroom door, she climbed out the window and made her way through the night to the empty clearing behind the stables.

She could hear the boys before she could see them, their voices and laugher reverberating through the empty forest. They had lit a small fire and were drinking stolen ale and pretending to like the taste. Felix was leaned up against a tree stump, a small smile alighting his face as Glenn told stories. Sylvain was trying his hardest to stop the ashes from the fire from blowing into his face as he added more firewood, and Dimitri stood behind him snickering.

“The princess has finally arrived!” Sylvain’s face broke out into a big smile before Ingrid scowled at his mocking nickname for her. He had been calling her “the princess of the north” for years just to get a rise out of her. She tried her best to sound unbothered when she responded.

“I would rather be a princess than a court jester like you, Sylvain.”

Both Felix and Glenn chuckled at Ingrid’s comeback.

“Court jesters are very important figures in the politics of Faerghus, if you would like to know.” Sylvain replied with a devilish smirk, never the one who would let the last word go.

“How so?” Glenn asked.

“We keep the noble women happy, in more ways than one.”

His comment earned a round of heavy sighs that quickly turned to laughter. Ingrid took a seat next to Glenn, who handed her a mug full of ale with a gentle smile, their hands barely brushing. They had their own little corner of the campfire, and the dark night and flickering flames made it feel more intimate than she had expected. Ingrid felt an unfamiliar heat rise up the back of her neck.

“How are you doing, Ingrid?” His voice gentle and caring. They were rarely able to speak alone without the hawk-like presence of their parents, and Ingrid almost didn’t know how to respond. He was only a few years older than her, but she was at an age when that felt like a decade of difference.

“As well as someone who pricked their fingers a dozen times while sewing could be.” She let out a laugh that sounded more bitter than she planned and looked down at the ground. Ingrid was never the best at keeping her true thoughts to herself.

“Sewing? I couldn’t imagine you enjoying that very much.”

“I don’t. And I am absolutely horrid at it as well, which doesn’t help.” Ingrid said shamefully. She was worried she might have made a mistake revealing her domestic flaws to her future husband.

“We all have our limitations. You should see me try to swim. I look like a drowning dog.”

“I’m sure that isn’t true, Glen. You are so talented at everything, and I cannot even do women’s work…”

Glenn’s eyes were kind as he reached forward to grasp her hands within his own, turning her palms upwards as he met her gaze.

“Don’t be ashamed. I would rather my wife knew how to protect our children than sew silly patterns on a dress. These hands were made for more than that.”

Ingrid couldn’t help but blush… she felt like she was going to faint. She was just about to deny Glenn’s compliment when Felix’s voice cut through the haze around them.

“Ok, lovebirds, cut it out.” Felix looked unamused, and Ingrid didn’t know if she was more annoyed or grateful for his interruption.

“Don’t be such a grouch, Felix. You’re just jealous that no woman would ever want to marry you.”

“Like I care. Women don’t interest me in the slightest.”

“Give it a couple years and you’ll be eating your words. Right, Dimitri?” Sylvain turned to the prince, who had a contemplative look on his face.

“I’m not sure I agree. I can’t imagine having much time to spare for women while I’m ruling Faerghus.” Ingrid agreed with Dimitri. Serving the kingdom was much more important than any romance or pleasure.

“But you are going to be the king! You could have any woman you want!”

“Your skirt chasing will get you into trouble one day, Sylvain.” Felix mumbled.

“If I was the prince of Faerghus, I would enjoy as many women as I could. Maybe you don’t deserve that position if you won’t take advantage of it!”

“You could be beheaded for treason if someone overheard those words, Sylvain. Be careful to not let the royal guards hear you.” Felix sniggered at the brief flash of fear on Sylvain’s face before he realized it was a joke.

“I could behead Sylvain for much less than that, Felix.” Dimitri piped up from the side as he stood up.

“Should I begin the trial now?”

The prince picked up a long stick from the ground before hitting Sylvain on the shoulder with a loud_ thwak_. The red-headed boy didn’t look so amused now but still played along.

“Sylvain of House Gautier, holder of the Crest of Gautier. You have been found guilty of many crimes, ranging from the harassment of women—(“My granny!” Ingrid yelled out to a round of laughter ")—to stealing precious chocolates from the dining hall. How do you plead?”

The flickering fire laid shadows on the barely contained laughter of the audience, fully enjoying the dedicated acting of their friends. They had play-fights like this all the time, re-enacting the stories of their favorite heroes like Loog and Kyphon. Sylvain looked up at the taller boy, puppy-dog eyes in full action as he spoke.

“Not guilty… Your majesty.” Sylvain moved to his knees, bowing to Dimitri and kissing his feet as the prince looked down upon him with mock pity.

“I don’t believe you. So… let the punishment match the crime.” Dimitri lifted the stick high above his head, and Ingrid thought for a moment that she saw a flash of glee in the prince’s eyes before he began to bring the stick down faster than she had expected. _They were just playing around… right?_ Ingrid was just about to jump forward to block the strike, but she wasn’t fast enough. Neither was Felix, who stood beside her with a dark expression on his face. She soon heard a loud snap and looked to see Glenn standing between Dimitri and Sylvain, holding his sword horizontally above his head in a perfect defensive position. His face was neutral, but his eyes were burning. It took Dimitri a moment to realize what had happened, half of the broken stick still gripped tightly in his hand. He broke out in an easy smile, the wild gleam in his eye gone as quickly as it appeared. Sylvain, who had been cowering on his knees, ready for the strike to land, had taken Glenn’s outstretched hand and shakily stood up.

Dimitri patted Sylvain on the shoulder, laughing.

“Your acting skills have improved greatly, Sylvain. Are you sure you are training to be a knight, or do you actually desire to become an actor for the Mittlefrank Opera Company?”

Sylvain let out a shaky laugh, unsure how the mood had changed so quickly but went along with Dimitri’s lighthearted teasing.

“I’ve heard that they’ve recently recruited a new young diva. The most beautiful in Fódlan, they say. Maybe I’d be better off joining them then spending my time with unattractive creatures such as yourselves.”

The jokes and laughter began to flow easy once again, but Ingrid couldn’t help but notice the slight change in Glenn’s normally calm demeanor. He was fidgeting with his sword pommel, and his leg was shaking with anxiety despite his neutral expression. Ingrid finished off her mug of ale and tapped Glenn on the shoulder while the other three boys were deep in conversation.

“Shall we get more spirits?”

The soft expression in Glenn’s eyes returned, and he held out his arm for her to take as they walked back to the hidden stash behind the stables. Glenn was quieter than usual, and Ingrid felt unsure about the silence.

“Your sword skills have improved so much, Glenn. You were quicker than a flash of lightning. I wish I could be that fast.”

“Thank you, Ingrid.”

He said no more until they reached the stables, where he suddenly stopped and grasped her by the shoulders. He had a worried expression on his face, creasing his handsome features. He whispered harshly, almost like he was afraid of the wind and trees overhearing them.

“Be careful of the prince, Ingrid.”

“What do you mean?” Ingrid was completely caught off guard.

“Just… keep an eye out for him.”

“I always do. It’s my duty— all of our duties—to protect the prince.”

Glenn let out a frustrated huff, rubbing his temples before laying his hands on her shoulders once again.

“You aren’t listening to me. Since your birth, I have been fated to love and protect you for the rest of my life… but I also must protect my king and kingdom. I used to believe these missions were perfectly aligned…but now… I am not so sure.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

“War is never far away, Ingrid. The prince is a lion, and lions are not easy to tame, especially after they get their first taste of blood. You always must be wary of those above you, no matter how you feel about them.”

Ingrid pushed his hands off her shoulders, feeling licks of anger in her stomach.

“Knights don’t doubt their lieges, _Sir_ _Glenn_. True knights understand their king’s actions are guided by the Goddess herself.”

Glenn shook his head and crossed his arms.

“You just… you’re too young to understand.”

Ingrid became more frustrated as he spoke. Glenn was the perfect knight in every way. She had no idea what had prompted him to speak these words of treason.

“I am not too young to understand anything! And don’t say it’s because I’m a girl either! You’re just not making any sense.”

Glenn leaned forward, grasping her by the hands. She thought his hold would be tight and painful, but he held her hands softly, almost reverently.

“I won’t always be around to protect you, Ingrid. I just want you to be prepared.”

“I don’t need you to protect me!” No matter their promised future together, Ingrid would never need a man to defend her. She would make sure of it.

Instead of getting angry like she expected, Glenn let out a defeated sigh and leaned his forehead onto her own. The indignation that fueled her was beginning to mix with another feeling that made her heart feel like it was going to burst from her chest.

“I know, Ingrid. You don’t need me protect you—rather, I want to protect you. It’s selfish, I know, but… just let me have this one selfish pleasure.”

Ingrid didn’t know what to say. Glenn was so close, his breath ghosting across her lips. She closed her eyes, completely unexperienced in any of this.

“Ingrid?” His voice was barely audible above the wind.

“Yes?” She kept her eyes closed.

He didn’t answer, but instead she felt a soft press against her lips. It was gone before she could even register it. Glenn pulled away, disappearing to grab some of the stolen ale from the stockpile while she stood alone in the darkness. She had never kissed someone before, and she hadn’t expected it to feel like that at all. Her favorite tales of rescued princesses always spoke of burning flames and heated passion when the knight finally kissed his beloved. However, this felt more like a soft warmth, like the friendly embrace of a hearth after trudging through the cold of winter. She didn’t hate it… but she was still unsure about her feelings.

When Glenn returned, he never met her eyes directly, and Ingrid thought she could almost see a blush on his face. He mumbled quietly as they made their way back.

“I’ll help you train, if you want. It would be…a great way to get to know each other better before our nuptials.”

Ingrid couldn’t help but smile. _Being trained by a real knight… what could be better?_ Memories of kiss quickly disappeared, replaced by dreams of a future in which she and Glenn could fight side-by-side for their kingdom. _That wouldn’t be so bad._

Ingrid felt a spark of hope during the following months. Glenn trained her secretly in between her etiquette lessons, and she gain a greater appreciation for the grueling work that the knights-in-training undertook. They raced their horses through the woods, shot countless arrows at imaginary targets, and practiced sword techniques over and over until Ingrid could barely lift her arms. They never spoke of their intimate moment in the woods, but she felt she had gotten to know Glenn better in the past few months than all the time before. It was nice to have someone to look up to again after losing her grandfather.

She couldn’t help but feel sad when Glenn left to join the royal family on their diplomatic visit to the territory of Duscur, but he promised he would return in a fortnight. She greatly looked forward to it—the training at least. The kiss on the other hand… she wasn’t sure if she wanted to repeat that, at least not until she was older and ready for all that. Maybe they could discuss it when he returned.

But Glenn never returned.


	2. Winter Solstice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sylvain and Ingrid go to the opera

After the Tragedy, everything changed. Dimitri returned alone in blood stained clothes, a haunted and empty look in his eyes. He was followed by an unknown boy, but judging from his appearance, he was from Duscur. Ingrid couldn’t even bare to look at him. She felt an anger within her that had never existed before. Glenn… the greatest knight she had ever known…her mentor… her fiancée… He was gone. This wasn’t the same type of pain she felt after losing her grandfather. This was coiling and red-hot, wrapping itself around her body and dragging her down further and further.

They all grew distant—her best friends—to a point where she wasn’t even sure if they were friends at all. Dimitri threw himself into his duties, always followed by the tall Duscurian boy. Sylvain spent most of his time at with women and rowdy soldiers, trying his best to pretend he didn’t feel pain at all. Felix’s grief and anger molded itself into a sharp knife, his words few and his temper short. All he did was train, rarely letting himself have enough time to even eat or sleep. Ingrid wished she could at least focus her rage into something productive like him, but instead, she felt herself slipping into indifference. Indifference about her life, indifference about her identity, indifference about her future. She did whatever her parents requested, from entertaining new suitors to perfecting her domestic abilities. Ingrid didn’t care that she was just a broodmare, she didn’t care that the only thing desirable about her was the invisible crest embedded in her body. A few years passed, and she didn’t care at all.

And she didn’t particularly care when Sylvain dragged her out one night, promising that he was taking her somewhere that she would love. They made their way deep into the city, passing loud drunk soldiers and overly friendly women with seduction in their eyes.

“Here we are!”

Sylvain threw his hands into the air, grinning like a madman. Ingrid looked up, confusion on her face.

“Where is ‘here’?” The lights of the grand building shined in the dark winter night, but it was unfamiliar to her. Maybe she had spent far too much time sequestered in the castle these past few years…

“Ingrid! It’s the opera! The greatest form of art in the greatest land of Fódlan! The Goddess herself bows down to the stars of the opera—or at least, that’s what I’ve heard!”

Ingrid was unsure. She had never gone to the opera before and wasn’t sure if she was going to enjoy it at all. But… it wasn’t like she had any other plans for the night.

Sylvain grabbed her arm before she could even reply, dragging her towards the large wooden doors.

“Ingrid, I promise you will love it. The stories are just like the tales of chivalry that you would never stop talking about when we were kids. Plus, it has plenty of passionate romance, just like the romance books that you pretend you don’t read!” Ingrid blushed, knowing she was found out. Maybe she had no chance for romance in her life anymore, but at least she could experience it through stories.

They entered the hall, and Ingrid let herself be swept up in the bustling excitement as they found their seats. The rich red curtains and opulent wood carvings of the hall left no expense spared. The nobles around them were dressed to the nines, sipping exotic drinks and trying to out-class each other with their pretentious opera knowledge.

After the chattering around them died down and the lights dimmed, the show finally began. Sylvain explained to her that the performance was about the secret long-lost son of the king, and his adventures to save the princess of a neighboring kingdom from her own evil father. It piqued Ingrid’s interest, and she was greatly enjoying the opening number. The actor who played the lead was dashing and handsome, even with his extravagant costuming. He fought off hordes of mercenaries and bandits as he travelled across kingdoms and met new companions from different cities. _He reminds me so much of…_ Ingrid shook her head. She was supposed to be enjoying herself for once, not thinking about Glenn. She focused back on the performance.

By the end of the first act, she was completely enraptured. Soon the hero made it to the dungeons of the mysterious castle, finding the imprisoned princess. Ingrid and Sylvain were on the edges of their seats, excited to finally see the fabled princess. A beautiful voice filled the opera hall, and Ingrid couldn’t help but stare as a woman stepped onto the stage, her graceful movements only enriching the enrapturing spell of her voice. She was…the word ‘beautiful’ didn’t seem to be enough to describe her. Even from Ingrid’s seat, she could tell that this woman was gifted by the Goddess herself. Her dark auburn hair shone under the spotlight; her deep green eyes filled with overflowing emotion. She was tall (taller than even the lead actor), and her hands were delicate and emotive. Ingrid noticed the revealing patch of skin on her back, where her dress didn’t leave much to the imagination. She felt a strange heat crawling up her neck and took a deep breath as she watched the princess’s first meeting with the hero.

“Pretty hot, right?”

Sylvain stage-whispered to her (which was met with some grumbles from the other nobles sitting around them). Ingrid ignored him. The only thing hot right now was her own body as she watched the princess and hero moving closer and closer together, their lips only inches away. Just as they were about to embrace, a loud crash came from offstage, and the pair had to run away from her father’s guards.

“After the opera is over, let’s go introduce ourselves to the stars. Maybe we can find a nice suitor for you?”

“Sylvain…”

“What? I’ve got connections and we should take advantage of them!”

Ingrid ignored him for the rest of the show, too busy watching every movement of the princess. Ingrid still couldn’t believe how the actress looked exactly like how she always imagined the princesses of her tales to look like. She was like a myth come to life, and Ingrid couldn’t take her eyes off of her. When the prince’s true identity was revealed and the villain was defeated, the couple finally kissed. Ingrid almost had to close her eyes from the waves of embarrassment that were flowing through her. She didn’t know why but watching them kiss made Ingrid feel… envious. Maybe she was jealous of the princess and how she got to kiss the handsome prince. _Maybe. _

The show was filled with tears, laughter, and triumphs, and Ingrid and Sylvain were completely taken. When the opera finally ended and Sylvain took her backstage (thanks to his “friendship” with one of the costumers), Ingrid felt a sudden rush of anxiety. She wasn’t wearing anything particularly pretty today, her hair was messy from the strong winds outside, and she had no makeup on. How could she confidently meet anyone looking like this, let alone someone who looked like a real princess? She quickly tried to sort out her braid as they walked down the hallway, passing laughing actors and crew members celebrating a show well done.

Sylvain brought her to one of the back rooms, where the leads were all being attended by costumers and make-up artists helping them take off their extravagant clothes.

“Sylvain! You made it! And you brought a beautiful guest”

A slightly older girl, perhaps in her early twenties, rushed up to greet them. She was gorgeous, with flowers braided into her straw-colored hair and rosy red cheeks. _I can’t argue against Sylvain’s taste_. She was holding handfuls of fabric, which led Ingrid to believe that this was the costumer that Sylvain had seduced. Despite the fabric, she embraced both of them in a warm hug.

“My name is Annabella. I’m the assistant costumer here at Mittelfrank. You must be Ingrid! Sylvain spoke so much about you. But I always imagined his little sister to have bright red hair too!”

Ingrid turned to Sylvain and gritted her teeth, whispering under her breath.

“Little sister?”

He only shrugged in response and whispered back.

“I’ve heard that women are more attracted to men who treat their sisters well.” He turned back to Annabella with a flourish.

“Ingrid takes after our beautiful mother and her long golden locks...” He took a slow bow and covered his heart, completely dedicated to his lies, “May she rest in peace. Did you know I raised Ingrid myself?”

While Sylvain and Annabella were wrapped up in their flirtations, Ingrid’s eyes began to flit around the dressing room. She watched the lead actor as he had his makeup washed off by makeup artists. Ingrid couldn’t help but giggle when she saw his false facial hair be unceremoniously stripped off his face by busy hands, with red splotches remaining where the glue kept the hair connected.

Ingrid was so distracted by the humorous scene that it took her a moment to register the insistent tap on her shoulder. She turned around, ready to tell Sylvain off, when she noticed the flash of auburn hair. The eyes looking back at her were dark green, and a surprised expression painted her features.

“Oh, I am so sorry! I thought you were Annabella for a moment. Your hair is the same gorgeous color as hers.”

A flush broke out on Ingrid’s face as the words, and their speaker, sunk in. The opera star in front of her was even more beautiful than she was on stage, even with her heavy stage makeup and bare feet (Ingrid had noticed the pile of shoes in the corner of the room and assumed the actors tossed the uncomfortable leather off as soon as possible.) When she was on stage, Ingrid had imagined the other woman as being much older than her, but up close, she was surprised to see that they were nearly the same age.

“It’s no problem. Really. And also...” Ingrid stuttered. The woman smiled warmly at her, waiting for her to finish speaking. She smelled like fresh roses, like the ones that lined the path to the chapel.

“You—you were magnificent up there. I had never imagined to be so invested in an opera before.” Ingrid hoped it didn’t just sound like empty flattery. She meant every word.

The taller woman had a glimmer in her eye as she responded.

“Is this your first opera, Lady…?” The songstress trailed off. Ingrid felt a bit uncomfortable with the title, but her loose lips answered before she could think.

“Galatea. Ingrid of House Galatea.”

“A beautiful name for a beautiful maiden.” Ingrid’s blushed so hard that she wondered if she resembled a tomato.

“So, Lady Galatea, is it your first time?” Ingrid’s mind immediately went into a much different direction after hearing those words in that warm voice, but she managed to wind in those wild thoughts before they went too far.

“Yes. My very first time...at the opera. I’ve just never had the time before… honestly, I hadn’t the interest before tonight either. And please, call me Ingrid.”

“Well Ingrid…” tasting the name delicately like a lover might, “I’m so very honoured to perform during your first experience at the opera.”

Their conversation quieted for a moment, as Ingrid tried to think of ways to keep the other woman interested. She was never the best at small talk. However, her worries were in vain when the other woman suddenly grasped her by the arm and made an excited exclamation.

“I just thought of something! Since it your first time here, there is something I must show you.” Before she could even answer, the taller woman was escorting her through the maze-like backstage, until they reached a ladder.

“We are going up there?” Ingrid became unsure, worried they were breaking some sort of rule.

“Oh, don’t worry about anything. The only thing to look out for are amorous couples. I hear it’s a popular spot for romance.” The songstress winked at Ingrid, causing her to blush once again. Ingrid coughed before trying to make her voice sound normal.

“Ladies first.” Ingrid gave a small bow and Dorothea smiled at her gesture as Ingrid helped her climb up the ladder in her extravagant dress.

Ingrid quickly climbed up behind her and couldn’t stop her mouth from opening in awe as she took in the view. They were high in the rafters above the stage, with the whole theatre laid out in front of them. The other woman gestured for Ingrid to move closer, and they sat across from each other, looking out over the opera hall. Ingrid was grateful she wasn’t afraid of heights, because a fall from this height would certainly be deadly.

“Isn’t it beautiful?”

“Breathtaking”

“A little drafty though. But I hear good company always keeps you warm” The other woman chuckled and met Ingrid’s flighty gaze. Even her laugher sounded melodic. She was the very picture of femininity, and Ingrid wasn’t sure if she was envious or appreciative of her well-manicured appearance and manners.

They sat in silence for a while, just admiring the view, before the other woman spoke up.

“I used to dream of this when I was a child. Singing in front of hundreds, touching their souls… just being loved. I wanted to be a princess, for at least a moment.” The songstress had a wistful expression on her face, and her voice betrayed a bitterness that broke through the cracks. Ingrid wondered what her life had been like before all of this. She sensed a lifetime of pain that couldn’t be quite hidden under makeup or expensive dresses.

“You fit the part well. I couldn’t imagine a better princess.”

“You flatter me, Ingrid.”

“It’s the truth. And it makes me happy… that you’ve achieved your dream.”

“Do you have a dream, Ingrid?” The songstress asked, genuine curiosity in her voice.

“I—I’m not sure...”

“I don’t believe you~” The woman teased in a singsongy manner, accompanied by a wink.

“Well…I…I used to dream about becoming a knight when I was a child. But it was only a silly dream.”

“I don’t think that’s silly at all. I can already imagine it! You astride a magnificent steed, cutting down villains, and saving countless princesses. Just like the female knights of old!”

The other woman was looking at her with such care that Ingrid couldn’t believe this was happening to her. Only a few hours ago, she was sitting in a dark room, waiting for another joyless day to pass by as her father delivered yet another letter from a faceless suitor. Now she was sitting in the rafters of an opera house with the most ethereal woman she had ever met.

“Perhaps…” The songstress’s excitement was infectious, and Ingrid couldn’t help but imagine herself as a mythical knight. She hadn’t even dared to dream of it since Glenn, but it felt right.

“You would be the loveliest knight. If I ever got into trouble, I already know who I would want to rescue me!” The other woman smiled as she moved her hand over Ingrid’s and squeezed. Ingrid expected her to move her hand back, but she kept it there, her thumb tracing patterns on the back of Ingrid’s hand. Everything smelled like roses, and Ingrid was drawn to it. An overwhelming feeling overtook Ingrid, and she drew her hand back quickly, as if it touched a hot stove.

“We should probably return soon… I don’t want to leave my friend waiting.” Part of Ingrid didn’t actually want this moment to end, but her anxiety was reaching a fever pitch.

The other woman’s expression was hard to read at first, but her warm smile soon returned.

“Of course, Ingrid.”

They made their way back to the crowd, and Ingrid tried her hardest to spot Sylvain in the mob of jovial people.

“Ingrid!” She heard his voice call out to her, and she followed the sound. He was entertaining Annabella and a few other blushing ladies, no doubt spinning tall tales for their pleasure.

“I thought you had run off with some dashing suitor, little sis!” Sylvain patted her head with his hand, and Ingrid was moments away from cutting it off (if only she had a sword on her). Ingrid remembered that she should probably introduce her new acquaintance to Sylvain. But when Ingrid turned around, the songstress was nowhere to be seen, hidden by the large crowd of the room. She was gone. Ingrid felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, realizing that she would most likely never see the other woman ever again.

“Where did you go off to anyways?” They were on their way back to the castle, and Sylvain had a smug grin on his face. Ingrid wasn’t in the mood to be teased, and part of her didn’t want to tell anyone about her brief, intimate moment with the peculiar woman. It was her secret, and her secret alone.

“I desperately needed to use the washroom. I just got lost on the way back.”

“So, no secret rendezvous? No trembling kisses away from prying eyes?” Sylvain winked, and Ingrid hit his arm.

“Nothing of the sort!” Ingrid’s face was flaming hot, and she was eternally thankful for the darkness of the night. She was now sure that no one needed to know about her moment in the rafters with the opera singer.

“I help you find romance one day. I promise!”

Her dreams that night were filled with images of her riding across the thundering sky on her loyal pegasus, a beautiful princess holding her around the waist. Everything smelled like roses.

It was only when she awoke the next day that Ingrid realized she had never learned the songstress’s name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorothea makes her first appearance! Even though Ingrid doesn't know her name. and next chapter, Ingrid enters Garreg Mach Officers Academy and runs into a familiar face


End file.
